I don't Know Who I Am
by InsaneRedneck007
Summary: After getting whacked over the head by a bad guy, Face loses his memory. How will he get it back? Rated for thematic elements.
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** This was one of my first stories, so I apologize if it's not the best.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own the A-Team, unless inside my head counts.

**Warning:** This whole story contains a bit of torture, so those who are sensitive to that might not want to read it. Or, you could just skip the italicized segments, although you might not get the story completely.

####

_He tugged against the restraints, trying to escape the metal chair that he was tied to. He desperately screamed in agony._

_The blindfold was so tight that his eyes felt like they were being pushed into his head. The metal bonds so cold and hard that they cut into his skin._

_His captors struck him again, laughing at his hopelessness and despair. They knew that he would crack soon. They knew that he would spill his guts and reveal everything._

_He just wished he were dead so that he could be free from this torture. He knew that, soon, his wish would be granted._

_The last thing he felt was a rod hitting his head, and the warm, stickiness of blood flowing down his face._

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][][][][][][][][][][]

_"Colonel, he's awake!"_

I opened my eyes and pain enveloped my body. Everything hurt, and I knew that this was just the beginning.

_Who am I?_

The thought struck my mind from nowhere. As hard as I tried, I couldn't find the answer.

A man sat next to me, a blue ball cap on his head, a brown leather jacket on his back. His face made me relax, but I had no idea who he was.

A muscular, african-american man with a Mohawk ran into the room with an older man with gray hair.

The gray-haired guy sat next to me, smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Hey, Face, how are you feeling?"

_Face? Is that who you are?_

I didn't awnser, my confused thoughts running a million miles an hour. This gray-haired guy and Mr. Mohawk made me feel safe and protected, but _who were they?_

The gray-haired guy frowned. "Face? You ok?"

My eyes locked gazes with the grayed man. "I... I don't know who I am."

The room froze. No one said a word.

I trembled. "Who... who are you? Why am I... why am I in so much pain?"

Baseball hat forced a grin. "I'm Murdock."

"I'm B.A.," said Mr. Muscles with a rough, gravely voice.

Gray-haired guy smiled. "I'm Hannibal. You're in pain because you were..." he paused uncertainly. He sighed. "Maybe I should explain more about us before I describe what happened to you.

"We are the A-Team, an elite group of Vietnam Vets who were falsely accused of murder and are on the run. We help out innocent people who are being targeted by bad guys.

"We were on a mission in Korea when you got captured and tortured. They wanted information about us so that they could capture us, but, to your credit, you didn't say anything. We finally found your whereabouts and rescued you.

"Your name is Templeton Peck, but you are more commonly called by your nickname, 'Face'. You scam airplanes, helicopters, and hotel rooms for us. You also lift identities so that we can access information." Hannibal finished his speech.

I nodded slowly. "Wh... what are my injuries?"

Murdock sat up straiter. "You have several broken ribs, a nasty gash on your lip that required stitches, your chest and arms have been cut and burned, requiring stitches. You have multiple bruises and cuts, the worst of them all was gashes around your wrists, a gunshot wound, and, apparently, amnesia."

I looked at myself. Bandages wrapped around my wrists and arms, all the way up to the shoulder. I lifted the blanket off my chest to reveal bandages around my torso.

"Wh... where was I shot?" I asked.

Hannibal guided my hand to my shoulder. "Right there."

"Did you guys do this?" I asked, fingering the bandage around my arm. "I mean, doctor me?"

Hannibal laughed. "No, we had Maggie Sullivan from Black Rock come up here and fix you up."

"Wh... where is she now?" I asked.

Hannibal smiled. "She went to the grocery store for some food and supplies. She should be back pretty soon."

"Hey, man, here she comes now," said B.A.

Hannibal grinned ear to ear and ran out of the room. Pretty soon, you heard a door slam shut.

"Does he... like her?" I asked Murdock.

Murdock nodded his head and smiled. "Yeah."

A couple of minutes later, a woman entered the room with Hannibal in tow. She smiled at me and I gave her a little smile back.

"So, how are we doing?" she asked as Murdock let her sit in his chair next to me.

"We? I don't see you laying on a bed all wrapped up like a birthday present," I said, feeling a strange confidence around her.

She nodded her head and looked me straight in the eye. "Alright, then, how are _you_ feeling?"

I paused. "In pain. Confused. Nervous."

"Okay, then, let's have a look at you." She pulled on a pair of latex gloves and unwrapped the bandage around my shoulder, revealing the ugly bullet wound.

I winced as she touched it. "Yeah, keep this clean and it should heal up fine." She wrapped it back up with some clean gauze and turned my head towards her. She touched my lip and opened my mouth, then closed it. "Your lip should be ok, just be careful when you eat."

She proceeded to poke, prod, unwrap, and re-wrap my wounds. I felt exhausted and just wanted to fall asleep.

"Alright," she said finally as she pulled out a pill bottle. "Take one of these and swallow. Murdock, get me a glass of water." She tossed a pill into her hand from the bottle and dropped it into my mouth.

Before Murdock even came back with the water I was asleep.

[][][][][][]

Alright, I won't hold the next chapter hostage. The chapter after that, though, no guarantees. It all depends on whether I'm happy with all the views/reviews I'm getting.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN:** So, here's the next chapter. Please keep in mind that his story is one of my old ones. I know I keep repeating myself, but I look at the story and say, "Whoa! You've gotten WAY better in your writing!"

And I made up dynoamacillin. As far as I know of, there is nothing in the world named that.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the A-Team, nobody does. The Team owns themselves, and they love stories written about them.

How do I know this? I asked Murdock.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][]

_"Auuuugh!" He screamed in pain again as the barbed wire cut into his wrists. _

_He hung by his wrists, barbed wire preventing them from moving without pain as he was hit again. His body lurched forward and the wire cut into his wrists again._

_His eyes were covered with a blindfold. It was another form of torture- sense deprivation. A man could go crazy._

_"Talk! Tell us what we want to know! We will let you go free!" A captor yelled at him._

_He didn't answer. He had said it a million times, and he didn't feel like saying it again._

I will never betray my friends.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][]

I lurched awake, my body in a cold sweat.

I trembled with fear from the nightmare. It was dark in the house, and I heard laughter downstairs.

No one was in the room. I was alone.

That was good. At least nobody saw my reaction when I woke up. I sighed in relief.

But the dark scared me. It was dark in my dream. My eyes were covered in a blindfold.

_How come you remember the prison camp, but you don't remember who you are or what your past is?_

I could only remember what I had dreamed. It scared me, and I trembled again.

Someone entered my room, and the nightstand light went on. "Hey, Face. Maggie says you need to eat." It was Hannibal.

I struggled to sit up. Hannibal had carried in a plastic tray with some food.

"You ok?" Hannibal asked, pulling up a chair and handing me the tray.

I didn't trust my voice, so I nodded my head and picked up the fork on the side of the tray. My hand was trembling, and the fork quavered in my hand as I picked at the food.

"Face?" Hannibal asked, looking at my hand. "What's going on?"

"I... It's nothing," I said as I attempted to eat some of the food.

"No, it's not," he said, taking my fork and tray away. "What's wrong?"

I looked at him, then trembled again and looked at my bandaged wrists. My hands shook as I held them up. An unwavering feeling of trust in this man told me it was alright to tell him.

"It happened all over again," I said, my voice shaky and nearly inaudible. "I can't remember anything else but the prison camp. I..." My voice trailed off.

"Face," said Hannibal, "It's alright. We all have our nightmares of the past, and sometimes they seem so real it scares us. But whatever our nightmares may be, you gotta remember that it's behind you. You don't need to suffer in that prison camp again. We rescued you. You're safe with us."

I nodded my head silently. "But... I don't remember you. I don't remember anything except what I recall in my dreams."

Hannibal sighed. "Face, I know what you're going through. I went through it myself once, too." He hesitated. "I have a medicine to get your memory back."

"You do?" I asked, not quite believing.

"Yes. It's called dynoamacillin and its extremely painful. I've worked with it before, and we had to tie the patent down as a precaution. One almost broke away he was so crazed with pain," Hannibal said. "I can't administer it to you yet, because you need to heal up a bit first."

"Ok," I said, willing to take any amount of pain to get my memory back. "Can I eat now?"

Hannibal smiled as he handed the tray back to me. "Sure."

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] []


	3. Chapter 3

**AN:** I know you guys who read my stories must be really annoyed that I post a note on, like, every chapter. Please try to bear with me.

I had a hard time trying to separate all of the segments in this chapter, so please just ignore all of the little problems and enjoy the story.

One last note: I was kind of going for a Rambo-ish Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in this chapter. If you know what I'm talking about (from the movie First Blood), it's when Rambo fights off all the cops in the jail. The same confused but hostile feelings, the need to survive.

Ok, on to the story.

####

~Two Days Later~

I smiled happily when I heard the door slam shut. I was alone.

Everyone was gone someplace or another, and it was great because I wasn't getting poked or prodded, I wasn't trying to get my strength back, I wasn't trying to do 'rehabilitation', I was alone.

Quiet.

Peaceful.

Alone.

I closed my eyes. I was due for a looong nap.

####

_He screamed as a boot hit his stomach. His wrists were cuffed together, and his eyes were blindfolded._

He hissed in rage as they picked him up by his hair and threw him on the ground. Someone kicked his back, and he screamed again.

####

"SMITH! SURRENDER OR WE'LL SHOOT!"

The voice penetrated my dream as I woke up in a sweat.

"I'LL GIVE YOU UNTIL THE COUNT OF THREE!" A voice shouted through a bullhorn.

_What on earth?_ I asked myself, sitting up.

"ONE!"

I climbed out of the bed to the floor. If he was going to shoot, I didn't want to get caught in it.

"TWO!"

I rolled my torso under the bed.

"THREE!"

Gunfire erupted and bullets shot through the walls.

_They fired their weapons in the air, trying to scare their victim. One shot nearly hit his head and he prayed that a bullet would hit the mark._

_A bullet pierced through his shoulder and he screamed._

I screamed as a bullet grazed my leg. This was terror.

_Oh, great, now you're going to have nightmares when you're awake?_

The bullets stopped and some men yelled. I heard men stampeding through the house.

_They chased him as he tried to get up and run, but there was nowhere to run. They tackled him and grabbed his legs, dragging him. They aimed a gun at him and told him to stop moving._

My legs were grabbed and I was dragged out from under the bed.

"Don't move!" a man in an army uniform aimed his pistol at me. More flooded the room, aiming their automatic rifles and pistols at me.

My body hurt horribly. I lay on my stomach, my arms spread away from my body, no shirt on. I was confused enough, but I could barely discern the dreams from reality.

"So, Templeton Peck," a voice said to me. I recognised the voice as the same one yelling through the bullhorn. "Caught at last."

"Who are you?" I asked, twisting my head as I tried to see his face.

His boot landed on the back of my neck and I yelped.

He chuckled. "Stop playing dumb with me, Peck." He took hold of my shoulders and pulled my up.

_They grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him off the ground. He growled in rage._

I growled and elbowed him in the stomach. He doubled up and pulled something from his pocket.

Electricity hit me like a speeding locomotive and I collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain.

He chuckled. "Don't mess with the best, Peck." He picked me up again and pushed me face-first against the wall. I moaned in pain as every motion shocked my body.

A handcuff bit into one of my wrists. I winced.

"Alright, Peck, where's the other arm?" He asked.

I didn't have the strength to answer. He pushed the back of his arm into my neck.

"Give it to me!" He ordered as my knees buckled under me. I was held up only by the strength in his arm that nearly crushed my neck.

Someone else grabbed other wrist and twisted it back. I grunted in pain.

He pulled his arm back from my neck and I collapsed to my knees.

"Been in a fight, Peck?"

I coughed and gasped in a breath. He laughed and slapped my back, making me cough more.

"Where are the others?" He asked, his tone none too friendly.

_He didn't awnser. He already knew what he was going to say, and he didn't feel like repeating it._

I blinked. I could barely tell reality from the dreams anymore.

He grabbed my chin and made me look at him. "Where are they?"

I tried to pull away, but couldn't. He laughed and let go of my chin. "Alright, then. I'll just track them down myself." He pulled out a radio and said something in a code that I couldn't understand.

"Load him up, boys," he said, and some of the men grabbed me and pulled me to my feet. They dragged me out to a car, where they shoved me in.

Two guys sat in the front and started to drive away. They didn't say anything or even acknowledge me. I was perfectly fine with that. _Just leave me alone._

My body ached from all the manhandling. I just wanted a pain pill and to lie down and sleep. Quietly. Alone. Man, that sounded familiar.

I closed my eyes and tried to sleep as the car jerked back and forth along the road.

Suddenly, my eyes jerked open. A black van swerved in front of us, causing the police car to stop.

Hannibal and Murdock jumped out with machine guns aimed at the car.

"Don't move or we'll blow a hole through you big enough to walk through!" Hannibal yelled as Murdock opened the door to the backseat. He stared at me.

"C'mon, Machacho, we haven't got all day!" Murdock said as he held the door open. I climbed out and ran over to the van, my hands still cuffed behind me.

Hannibal and Murdock quickly joined B.A. and I in the van and we sped away.

"Hey, Face, Wanna get those handcuffs off?" Murdock asked as he pulled a key out of his pocket.

I smiled and allowed him to take off the handcuffs. "Thanks."

He winked at me. "No problem."

####

I stumbled into the small cabin that Murdock had directed us to. Hannibal had an automatic rifle slung over his shoulder as he followed me in.

"Hey, Face, you don't look so good," said Hannibal. "Why don't you lay down?"

I nodded my head happily. "Where's the bedrooms?"

Hannibal guided me into one. "Here."

I carefully lay on the bad and sighed happily.

"What happened to your leg?" Hannibal asked as he sat next to me, pulling my left pant leg up to reveal a bloody wound a couple inches above the ankle. It reminded me of a bad cut I got on my knee when I was a little kid on my bike.

"A bullet grazed it when the cops got me," I said.

Hannibal stood up and pulled his rifle off his shoulder. "Ok, I'm gonna clean and bandage that up in a couple minutes. Sit tight."

Hannibal left the room, and I enjoyed the silence. Somehow I knew that it wouldn't be lasting.

Hannibal entered the room again with a first-aid kit. He pulled a chair up to the bed and sat. "Ok, Face, let's take a look at your leg."

He pulled my pant leg up and swabbed the small wound with disinfectant, then wrapped gauze around it. It stung pretty bad, but nothing to mention.

"There we go. All set." Hannibal pulled my pant leg back down. "Take a nap. You look like you need it."

I nodded and lay my head back on the pillow. Before I knew it, I was asleep.

####


	4. Chapter 4

Days turned into weeks as I recuperated, my body growing stronger every day. The nightmares hadn't stopped, and I hadn't gotten my memory back, but the Guys helped me as much as they could. Pretty soon, I could walk all over the house without a problem.

One morning Hannibal walked into the dining room where I was eating breakfast and sat next to me.

"Face," said Hannibal, "I'm going to get to the point: I think you're ready for the dynoamacillin."

I stopped eating and looked up at Hannibal. "How soon?"

Hannibal shrugged. "I can do it today if you'd like."

I nodded my head. "Sure. Ok."

"How about after breakfast?" Hannibal asked.

"Ok," I said, a little hesitantly.

"Good. I'll get the stuff together," he said. "Finish up and meet me in the basement."

I nodded my head and finished my cereal. I didn't like the thought of going through more pain, but I'd get my memory back, and that'd be worth it.

I put my bowl in the sink and washed my hands, then headed downstairs into the basement.

The basement didn't look friendly to begin with. It felt like one of those dungeons you see in an old horror movie, even though there weren't chains on the walls or beds with restraints.

I take that back. As I walked around the corner, I saw Murdock and B.A. standing next to a bed with restraints. Then again, it was a modern bed with restraints, not one of those old metal things. And It wasn't like an ordinary bed, it looked more like a dentist chair shaped like a gingerbread man in a skirt. In other words, it was the kind of chair they used for lethal injection.

I walked over to the bed and an uneasiness filled my gut.

"Hey, guys," I said to Murdock and B.A. as I fingered one of the straps. "Where's Hannibal?"

"Right here," said Hannibal as he came down the stairs, a box in his hand. "Go ahead and get in the chair."

I nodded my head and pulled myself up onto the chair. B.A. and Murdock strapped me in and my nervousness grew.

"Wiggle around," said Murdock. "I wanna make sure those are tight enough."

I tried to wiggle a bit, but it was extremely hard to. Murdock nodded his head in satisfaction and said, "Ok, Colonel, he's secure."

Hannibal pulled the syringe out of the case and filled it with liquid from a vial. "Face, this is going to hurt a lot. I mean a lot. Probably worse than anything you've felt before. Try not to bite your tongue or do any other damage to your body." He set the vial to the side and stepped closer to me. "This is going to be hard, but I need you to stay still as much as you can."

"Ok," I said nervously. "But... about the pain... couldn't you take the edge off it with painkiller or something?"

Hannibal shook his head. "No. We tried that, but the patent didn't regain his memory." He brought the needle next to my shoulder. "You ready?"

I sucked in a breath. "As ready as I'll ever be."

As soon as the tip of the needle touched my skin, I knew it was going to hurt a lot more than I thought it would.

I writhed in pain and screamed in agony. The pain was like fire that seemed to burn up my insides and squeeze my heart. Finally, B.A. mercifully hit my head, and I fell unconscious.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][] [][][][]


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** Shucks, this is a baby chapter. Oh, well. Enjoy.

[][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][][]

My eyes slowly opened, and I realized that I was safely lying in a bed. My body felt like I had been tossed down a cliff.

Then a thought registered in my head: I could remember. I remembered Murdock, Hannibal, and B.A. I could remember all of our missions, all of our memories.

I could remember.

I slowly climbed out of bed, feeling inward knives pierce my stomach, but nothing could deter my enthusiasm. I stumbled around the house, until I reached the kitchen, where the rest of the Team were eating breakfast.

Hannibal's gaze jerked up to me, his face registering surprise. "Face? What're you doing out of bed?"

I smiled widely. "I can remember. Guys, I can remember!"

Grins grew on the guys' faces and they jumped over to pat me on the back (or, in Murdock's case, hug me).

"Hungry?" Murdock finally asked.

"I'm starved!" I said, sitting down at the table. Murdock fried eggs and ham, then served me. I loved every minute, because I could remember. Everything.

"I love it when a plan comes together," Hannibal said at last, and I knew we were all thinking the same thing.

The End

[][][][][][][][][][][][][]

Ok, I know the ending is clichéd, but we're all happy, right?

Thank you all for reading/reviewing my story. It's wonderful to be noticed.

-InsaneRedneck007


End file.
